Poet Marvin Bell says, “Read something, then write something that shows the influence of what you read.” Bell (and many other writers) believe this is the best way to improve your craft. One of the best short story writers I know is Bruce Holland Rogers.
Bruce’s short-short stories make me think about the elements of story and what makes a story satisfying.
To fit reading into my schedule, I have to trick myself–not that I’m too busy to read, but that I get distracted. So, I subscribe to Bruce’s annual short short’s, stories that take a few minutes to read when they arrive by email about three times each month. Here’s a sample of Bruce’s work.
- Bruce Holland Rogers
When he was very young, he waved his arms, gnashed the teeth of his massive jaws, and tromped around the house so that the dishes trembled in the china cabinet. “Oh, for goodness sake,” his mother said. “You are not a dinosaur! You are a human being!” Since he was not a dinosaur, he thought for a time that he might be a pirate. “Seriously,” his father said at some point, “what do you want to be?” A fireman, then. Or a policeman. Or a soldier. Some kind of hero. But in high school they gave him tests and told him he was very good with numbers. Perhaps he would like to be a math teacher? That was respectable. Or a tax accountant? He could make a lot of money doing that. It seemed a good idea to make money, what with falling in love and thinking about raising a family. So he was a tax accountant, even though he sometimes regretted that it made him, well, small. And he felt even smaller when he was no longer a tax accountant, but a retired tax accountant. Still worse, a retired tax accountant who forgot things. He forgot to take the garbage to the curb, forgot to take his pill, forgot to turn his hearing aid back on. Every day it seemed he had forgotten more things, important things, like which of his children lived in San Francisco and which of his children were married or divorced.
Then one day when he was out for a walk by the lake, he forgot what his mother had told him. He forgot that he was not a dinosaur. He stood blinking his dinosaur eyes in the bright sunlight, feeling the familiar warmth on his dinosaur skin, watching dragonflies flitting among the horsetails at the water’s edge.
(c) Bruce Holland Rogers. Used with permission of the author.
If you liked the craft Dinosaur demonstrated, consider subscribing to his short-short series $10.oo/year to read something, then write something that shows the influence of fine storytelling.